Війна світів
Friday Night
butforthemostpartthedailyroutineofworking,eating,drinking,sleeping,wentonasithaddoneforcountlessyears—asthoughnoplanetMarsexistedinthesky. EvenatWokingstationandHorsellandChobhamthatwasthecase.
InWokingjunction,untilalatehour,trainswerestoppingandgoingon,otherswereshuntingonthesidings,passengerswerealightingandwaiting,andeverythingwasproceedinginthemostordinaryway. Aboyfromthetown,trenchingonSmith’smonopoly,wassellingpaperswiththeafternoon’snews. Theringingimpactoftrucks,thesharpwhistleoftheenginesfromthejunction,mingledwiththeirshoutsof"MenfromMars! "Excitedmencameintothestationaboutnineo’clockwithincredibletidings,andcausednomoredisturbancethandrunkardsmighthavedone. PeoplerattlingLondonwardspeeredintothedarknessoutsidethecarriagewindows,andsawonlyarare,flickering,vanishingsparkdanceupfromthedirectionofHorsell,aredglowandathinveilofsmokedrivingacrossthestars,andthoughtthatnothingmoreseriousthanaheathfirewashappening. Itwasonlyroundtheedgeofthecommonthatanydisturbancewasperceptible. TherewerehalfadozenvillasburningontheWokingborder. Therewerelightsinallthehousesonthecommonsideofthethreevillages,andthepeopletherekeptawaketilldawn.
Acuriouscrowdlingeredrestlessly,peoplecomingandgoingbutthecrowdremaining,bothontheChobhamandHorsellbridges. Oneortwoadventuroussouls,itwasafterwardsfound,wentintothedarknessandcrawledquiteneartheMartians; buttheyneverreturned,fornowandagainalight-ray,likethebeamofawarship’ssearchlightsweptthecommon,andtheHeat-Raywasreadytofollow.
